


the wolf and the bird

by oceandawn



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Love, Guitars, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceandawn/pseuds/oceandawn
Summary: callum plays guitar. ben is just another popular guy, both with a crush. they just don't know it's each other.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86





	the wolf and the bird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [howlingsaturn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlingsaturn/gifts).



> happiest of birthdays to the sunshine in my life, Jay!!!! You deserve all the best today, and I hope this brings a lil smile to your face.
> 
> Thank you for being there for me, here's to many more years!

"You really know how to put a man down, Jay," Ben nudges his brother on the way in, the old wooden door of the bar creaking like it's some sort of antique.

Although, maybe it really is  _ that  _ old, kept alive by tradition and the warmth only a quiet, homey local pub can offer. There's even a fireplace somewhere near the bar, old foundations still reaching across the ceiling.

Jay's more interested in how little success Ben's had in taking someone home for the night, much to Ben's annoyance. He thought Jay's fourth bar on their crawl would've wiped it from his memory.

"Sore loser, I think," he laughs, and Ben clicks his tongue at him.

They find seats, sighing as they sit down, other University mates in tow as they all find a space. This is their last pub, so they'll be turning down the  _ lad hype  _ a notch knowing their finals are over. It was Ben's idea, and Jay took a bet Ben wouldn't make it to the second bar without ditching them all for a handsome guy and a warm bed.

_ "Why would I wanna' spend my celebrations with you? You should celebrate Ben style." _

_ "By gettin' laid?" _

_ "You could do with that, to be honest. Your face still looks like you're in an exam." _

Either way, the crawl is over, and Ben's sort of relieved about it. His energy tank is almost empty, and he's had enough social interaction for one night to last him another month of never seeing anyone again, at least no one but the nameless faces at the other end of his trusty  _ app. _

"First round you or me?" asks Jay, fingers tapping against the table.

"Think I'll sit this one out," Ben replies, leaning back into the old booth. It's rather comfy considering how old it might be.

"Ah, coward," Jay kicks his foot under the table, and Ben blinks at him.

"Uh, okay. I'll wait for your text in the morning that'll give me full permission to say;  _ I told you so." _

Jay scoffs, "Listen, maybe I will regret it, but I just spent 6 months for that exam and you're gonna' let me enjoy it."

"Right, right," Ben nods his way. "I'll have  _ one  _ more."

Jay cheers, patting everyone he knows on the way to the bar. It looks like they haven't really done much in ways of disturbing the peace.

A quick look around confirms the few people here are still enjoying their evening despite the small group of students making their presence known. The lads seem pretty respectful too, the only loud noise they make being Baker's howl of a laugh or a combined tease against a lad who confesses who he fancies.

Ben doesn't mind them, they're mostly Jay's mates. He sticks to his circle, minds his business, mingles with who he needs to and when he needs to. 

Now, he's done with studying. He can go back to his father's empire and drown out his neverending doubt of being enough with a hookup everyone one or two days.

Jay questioned him about it, but he's always turned a blind eye, changed the subject or just ignored him point blank. There's no use when Ben's set his mind on something.

Either way, he can agree with Jay. He should enjoy the night, one last night of freedom. He's 23 and healthy — might as well act like it.

Jay returns with drinks, mumbling  _ here you go mister  _ before sitting down himself. Ben doesn't fancy taking a sip until he needs to, Jay smacking his lips when he downs a gulp of his.

Ben's listening to the conversation that carries on to their table, Jay joking with them. He's content, absorbing each second, until something catches his eye.

Some guy is stepping up onto the small, dimly,  _ barely  _ lit stage in the corner of the pub by the fireplace. The people already here before the group of lads seem to be there for him, or they sat there with the intention of someone stepping up to give some free entertainment.

It's a Friday, and usually pubs do have events on, but this seems more laidback, like just a local thing.

But as the guy turns around, Ben's eyes widen a little.

He knows him. He's from the same University, the same guy he sees in that one booth, the same guy he's had this—  _ crush on  _ ever since that one day.

Ben doesn't even know why he's here, but then again, are they even friends? Ben didn't even bother trying to when it mattered. He even remembers him dropping a book in the library, and all Ben did was snort at him and move on to find what he needed.

The other lads don't seem to notice him, but Ben does, hand idle against his beer glass, fixated on how he pulls up a stool from around the corner and sits down.

He's holding a guitar, he remembers that too, an acoustic one, mint condition without any stickers disturbing the look of it. From where Ben's sitting, he can just make out his features, and Ben's never really paid attention long enough to see how —  _ gorgeous  _ he is.

_ That's a lie. He always paid attention. _

There's those blue eyes, the shadow of his cheekbones even more prominent thanks to minimal lighting, and how he confidently holds the guitar like it's the extra half of his soul, plucking the bottom string with his thumb to make sure it's tuned to how he wants it to be.

Ben's a simple man. Nice hands? Big tick.

But there's something about this guy, how he doesn't look up, focused on the guitar for the time being like he isn't on stage with people waiting for him to start, Ben included.

Thankfully, Jay hasn't noticed his lack of interest in whatever they're laughing about, because Ben starts drinking his pint. If he finishes this, he has an excuse to go to the bar and listen to the music without students howling in his ear.

Ben's always been a fan of music, from vinyls in his younger years to musicals today. It's his hidden hobby, the thing he likes but doesn't talk about because it's not deemed as cool and he got bullied for it.

The love for it never fades, but he's not actively searching for it. At least, not until an opportunity like this presents itself.

Ben keeps his eyes on the guitar guy,  _ his crush,  _ watching as he tunes another string before giving a few more louder plucks of the strings and being satisfied with the harmony.

It's only then that he looks out, smiling, and Ben's heart leans forward in his chest because for some reason he wants to be seen. He won't look back here and meet Ben's eyes like some sort of romcom movie when a bunch of lads are there. Especially not if he recognises they're from the same University.

He almost gets up there and then to go sit closer, but that'd be too much too quick. What's he hoping for, anyway? That somehow a complete,  _ sort of  _ stranger dedicates every note to him and they become eternal lovers?

Ben laughs to himself, downing another portion of his pint that earns a spot of teasing from Jay. He doesn't do anything but glare at him, and with that, Jay's back to talking to the others.

When he places the glass down, he doesn't dare stare back towards the stage, wanting to enjoy it for what it is, not what he'll hope it'll somehow turn out to be.

But then he hears his voice, the first word following onto the second like perfect handwriting on paper. Ben lifts his focus towards him just as he plucks the first note of the song, and the acoustic mixed with rather earthy, medium tones of a voice make Ben feel another sense of longing.

He's always loved that voice. Always ending too soon, always disturbed by something else like right now.

_ "For you, a thousand more,"  _ he sings, and Ben hasn't heard this song before, but it sounds as if it was made for him to sing.  _ "For us, all and more." _

The people sitting by the stage all watch on in awe, some even having a conversation between, smiles on their faces.

Ben only notices glimpses of them because he's entirely focused on  _ him, _ watching each finger on his right hand move like clockwork to the strings, his left hand moving up and down the neck of the guitar as if it's an extension of his own arm.

_ "Oh, to see you looking back,"  _ Ben notices that he's keeping his eyes closed, singing to the floor, shoulders up but his head down.  _ "It makes me realise what I lack. I'm not the one you see, and I'll never be." _

It's heartbreaking, the song, but most of all how easily his voice conveys that emotion, how it pulls on Ben's very limited amount of sympathy for a stranger.

He's not a stranger though. But it's easier for Ben to think about it this way to save the heartache.

Ben imagines this song means a lot to him, from how he sings the most painful lyrics like he's the one saying it, and even the hopeful, upbeat parts of the chorus seem like a light in the dark.

Ben can't have anything for long.

"Oh, don't tell me," one of the lads starts speaking up, and Ben doesn't realise he's talking to him until he leans into view. "You've been lookin' at him ever since he got up there."

Ben realises he's been caught, trying to keep the same expression so it doesn't catch him out, but then he realises his face is soft, completely focused on the guy's voice and hands.

So Ben scoffs at his mate, sippiny his pint and placing it back down with more than a thud. The lad already knows it was a mistake to point it out.

"Better than listening to you muppets," he argues, and Jay just smiles at him. He  _ knows.  _ He knows Ben better than anyone. "You forgot I'm gay? Handsome guy starts singin' and what? You'd rather I listen to you go on about  _ women?  _ Think you've had a bit too much to drink."

"But it's Callum," and Ben shrugs like he's meant to understand what that means. "He doesn't have any mates. Plus, ain't he straight?"

Ben bites his tongue. He almost says  _ I am. _

But he blanks instead. Since when is  _ that  _ ever a reason not to admire how well he can  _ sing?  _ If anything, Ben wishes he was closer, wishes he was on the other end of those lyrics.

Jay laughs, "You don't have any mates either."

"Hey, I'm only lookin' out for Ben."

"Our tastes are different, mate. If I wanted your opinion I would've asked for it," barks Ben, and all of them go silent. Only the soothing voice of  _ Callum  _ remains.

He had no mates once, too, bullied for being himself. At least Jay actually stuck up for him.

"How do you even know he doesn't? You don't even speak to the guy," Jay asks, gesturing towards him.

"Rumours."

Ben shakes his head, "What are we? High school bullies? A complete stranger to us who only sees you on your own could say the same." He gestures to his now empty glass. "Now, excuse me. I think I need another pint after that."

He winks Jay's way. Jay does it back.

_ Thanks. _

_ No problem. _

Jay knows him, how he loves music, how he's spent countless days convincing him to go to a gig with him, only for Jay to surrender and go because it's the only time he ever sees Ben smile.

A handsome guy on a guitar is bound to have Ben acting like a moth to a flame. Jay confirms his thought when he sees Ben reach the bar and turn down another order, head turning to Callum.

_ "All I have is me,"  _ Callum sings, lifting his head, and Ben holds onto his breath that he'll finally open his eyes, but he doesn't.  _ "I hope it's enough for you to see." _

The chorus picks up again, lyrics about one sided love, a love Callum can't have but still thinks about.

And then the song mellows out, occasional plucks of the strings that match Ben's heartbeat every other  _ thump.  _ Ben feels his body ease with the tone of Callum's voice, how in this low, slow version it seems to send chills but equal warmth down the length of his spine.

On the last note, he opens his eyes, still to the floor.

There's no great applause, just a few seconds of silence before people start clapping near the stage. Ben wants to, but he knows the lads behind him will have a field day. 

So he settles for looking at the lady behind the bar, waiting until she makes eye contact before speaking.

"Does he always play here?" 

She smiles, "Yeah. Every Friday. He misses some days but he usually plays at least two or three before calling it a night."

So that's why he never saw him on a Friday.

Ben nods, "Thanks."

He turns back to the stage, but this time, he's met with Callum's eyes. And he sort of —  _ pauses,  _ hands on his guitar gripping tight before Ben sees the way he swallows.

Callum looks frightened to see him, and Ben wishes he'd disappear or Callum never saw him so he could hear just one more song. But, as fate would have it, Callum takes his eyes away and stands up from the stool.

"Only one tonight?" says some guy, sat with what looks to be his wife.

"Sorry," Callum mumbles. "Been a long day."

They all seem to understand, thanking him, and Ben has no idea what to do as Callum seems to go through a back door. He waits, and waits, and Callum never seems to appear again.

"Where's he gone?" Ben asks the lady again, and she smiles at him with a curious look.

"You know him?"

"We go to the same Uni. I think he was in my year, I never really said anything to him." Ben shrugs with the lie as the lady seems to make her first impression of him. 

"And now you know he's got that voice you wanna' know him?" 

Ben feels something pinch his back. It's almost as if the angel on his shoulder is saying  _ I told you so  _ every time Ben pushed himself to turn away.

Thing is, he did look back, always. Callum just never saw him.

"Well, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe, but he's a good lad," and then she gestures to the zoo of students. "I don't think he deserves a second thought. He should be someone's first.

_ Oh. You have no idea, lady. _

"Well, guess I'll have to come back next Friday, then," Ben pats the side of the bar, the lady not giving him anything else as he checks the stage once more. Still nothing.

_ Fuck.  _ He was going to talk to him. Might be three years too late but better than nothing. This  _ was  _ meant to be a good night.

As he turns around, the lads are still there, and he sits down where he was before, tuning back into the conversation about football of all things. Ben wishes he'd stayed here, muscling through the teasing just so Callum's voice never stopped.

Where did he even go?

\- - -

Ben delays his father for another week. He should be back home by now, but he's not exactly excited about going home, not when half of his friends are here, and Jay is moving away for a job.

It's their last day together, and Jay suggested they go back to that bar, and on the inside, Ben knows why he asks, but Ben pretends he doesn't at all, agreeing with a simple nod of his head over breakfast.

He's been crashing at Jay's place, his accomodation over, so he'll need to find a hotel for the night and head back home tomorrow.

The pub is quiet again, some of the people already here being exactly the same as last week. Thankfully, it's just him and Jay out of their group today, meaning they don't have heads turning towards them, just one glance or two before people tune back into their own conversations.

Jay buys the first round, and Ben waits impatiently for the stage to host someone in particular.

"You couldn't be any less obvious," jokes Jay, and Ben simply rolls his eyes.

"And?"

"I know you've fancied him for a while," Jay takes a sip of his pint. "I think I was the only one to notice."

"Is that why you brought me back here?" asks Ben, looking down at his drink.

"Don't act like you weren't hoping for it," Jay laughs at him, and Ben grumbles something incoherent. So much for being sneaky about it.

"It's your last day here. We should be out getting wasted, not you holding my hand so I can talk to some guy I like," Ben leans back, trying to stop himself from looking over, but it's futile. "When will you be back, anyway?"

"Few months. Depends how it goes," Jay shrugs. "They could kick me out in the first week."

"Here's hoping," Ben chuckles as Jay kicks him under the table. "What? You're my brother. I'm gonna' miss you."

"I know, you big sap," Jay winks at him as he takes a sip, and Ben uses the momentary silence to look at the stage.

Still nothing. His heart mourns.

Ben knows him from University because he always walked past the practice rooms on his way to class. They were all soundproof, mocking him in some way because he couldn't hear any of the music. 

It was during after hours that Ben was on his way home, walking back through the music part of the building when he heard him.

\- - -

_ EIGHT MONTHS AGO _

Ben stops in his tracks, phone in his hand, text half finished. Behind him, he can hear the pluck of strings, the tap of wood against the side of an instrument, and then the echo of his voice down the hall.

He doesn't know what to do other than listen, turning back to step closer to the open door. 

_ God —  _ his voice is almost heaven.

Ben leans his back against the wall, head back as well, eyes closed as he listens to everything he can. This is the voice behind that closed door, the careful tune of his instrument, the gentle way in which he traverses each lyric like it's something special.

But he's never seen his face, only glimpses of it. Ben knows his voice, but not him, and it's always going to be a mystery because he's too scared to go past that door.

Then the music stops.

Ben opens his eyes, realising there's someone standing there, watching him.

He turns, only to look up and see the face behind the voice, and his heart drops, butterflies in his stomach because  _ shit, he's gorgeous too? _

"Hi," he says, and Ben feels like he's been caught going to the toilet without a teacher's pass.

"Uh, hey—" Ben replies, standing up from the wall. "This— looks weird. I'm sorry."

He laughs, and Ben feels that push against his chest. Wow, he has a lovely smile when he laughs.

"It's okay," he says, scratching the back of his head. "Shouldn't have left the door open, I know people can get nosy."

Ben tilts his head, "I ain't. It was just your voice — you know you sound amazing, right?" Never the subtle one, at all.

Callum blanks, hand mid air as Ben's words sink in. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say, because now he's blushing. There's a sense of innocence to him, whereas in any other situation, Ben could be seen as a wolf, listening to the bird sing on his branch, waiting for him to fall.

Reputation follows Ben, and if Callum knows of it, then he might as well run half a mile. He doesn't, looking back up as he shoves his hands into the pocket of his jacket.

"Thanks," he says, and if this was anyone else, he'd laugh and say  _ is that it?  _ But Callum's posture makes him think twice.

He's shy but his smile hints a bubbly side.

"You're a music student, I guess?" asks Ben, feeling sorry but also amused at how red his ears seem to be.

"Yeah, third year," Callum holds out his hand, and Ben looks at it like he's never seen a hand before. "Callum."

Oh. 

Ben shakes his hand, hoping Callum didn't see his moment of hesitation.

"Ben," he replies, and it's Callum that pulls away. Ben didn't even realise he was holding his hand, literally just  _ holding  _ it.

_ Shit. What's going on with me? _

"I— gotta' head back before my bus route stops," Callum says, already stepping to the side.

"Oh, yeah," Ben feels disappointment burn his stomach. "See you around."

Callum stops when he's walking backwards, his shy expression smiling away when those words sink in.

"Yeah," he nods. "See you another time."

\- - -

_ PRESENT _

"Why did you never ask him?" Jay says as they're on their second drink.

"Don't know," but Ben does know. "Seemed way too nice for me."

"Well, that's true," Jay grins as Ben sighs at him.

"Cheers."

"What I  _ mean,  _ is that you only seemed to talk about him as a mate. You even stopped hooking up with guys every other week. You kept coming home late with this —  _ smile  _ on you that vanished as soon as you had to speak to someone," Jay saw Ben get lost in his own world way too many times, and it's no different now. 

"He was a mate," Ben's voice is worryingly low, his focus off to the side like he's remembering something he doesn't want to. "Messed it up, didn't I?"

Jay frowns, not sure what he means. Ben won't give him an answer, he knows that, but it's useless to even try when the pluck of a string breaks the air.

Ben's eyes land on him too quick to be anything other than admiration. He's gone for him, always has been since their second encounter, ever since Callum sang his heart out and Ben the single witness.

\- - -

_ SEVEN MONTHS AGO _

_ "Maybe we aren't meant to be, calling down wishes from the sky we're both sitting under." _

There's his voice again, but there's more guitar than voice. Ben doesn't mind, not when his feet carry him anyway, this time down to the section of large halls. His voice echoes even louder, the twang of each string lasting a few more seconds on every go before it fades out when he plucks it again. Always a sudden start and stop of notes.

He's sitting on the stage, one leg up, one leg down as he sings with his eyes open to the floor, upper body moving to how he taps the wood and then plucks a string after.

His hair is a little softer today, too, and Ben adjusts his backpack as he leans against the doorframe. Callum doesn't notice him until the sweet tone of his voice becomes nothing but the echoes of shuffling and breathing.

Ben steps through the threshold, looking at him about twenty steps at the other side of the room, and Callum does nothing but stare, fingers hovering over the strings like he wants to keep playing, but his heart's too frightened.

"Hey," Ben says, hands in his jean pockets as he comes to the stage. "Mind if I sit?"

"Oh, sure," Callum shuffles over even though he doesn't need to. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just had an exam," Ben lets his bag fall off his shoulders, landing behind. "You usually don't sing in here."

Callum has to look away. There's that blush again.

"Too much echo," Callum looks to the ceiling that towers way,  _ way  _ above them.

Ben looks at him from the side, then down to his arms. If there's too much echo, why play in here knowing anyone might hear? If he's shy with Ben, how is he with everyone else?

"Is your booth not available or something?" asks Ben.

"It is. Just didn't fancy playing in a small, dark room today," he shrugs, turning to Ben and locking eyes. They don't break until Callum's nail picks at the string, only giving a tiny note that makes them both turn away.

"You can keep playing," Ben stares at the floor too, now. This is usually easy, picking up guys with his witty charm and the promise of more in his smile, but that all goes out the window with Callum.

Ben becomes just as shy as he is, afraid of saying the wrong thing too sudden, spooking him when Ben barely knows him.

Thing is, he wants to get to know him.

"It's okay," Callum smiles, placing his guitar back into his carry case. "It's late, anyway."

Ben tries not to let the sadness show in his face or his movements as he hops down. He wants to hear him play, right there, right where he can hear him and it's just them.

"Can I at least walk you to your stop?" 

Callum stops what he's doing, looking back to Ben who shrugs in question. It's a few more seconds before Callum dips his head, then shakes it, and Ben thinks he's about to say no.

"Okay, yeah," Callum hops down before slinging the case over his shoulder. 

And it became their thing, a thing that made Ben wish he could stay every single time.

\- - -

_ PRESENT _

Callum sings two songs, this time ones of sorrow and loss, of a love leaving he wants so desperately to stay.

"How did you mess it up?" Jay asks, allowing Ben that time to just listen.

"I didn't," Ben replies, bringing his head up from where he's been resting it on the table, crossed arms providing a resting place. "I would."

"You don't know that," Jay argues, staring at him for a few seconds before clicking his tongue. "You'll never know if you don't ask."

"Yeah, you're right," Ben watches Callum stand up, holding his guitar as he speaks greetings to some of the elderly that have visited today. He's so sweet, too sweet for a poison like Ben. "But it's easier to say than do."

"Since when did you get scared of shit?" Jay raises one eyebrow towards him, and Ben grunts, pushing his hands against his face, sighing.

It's already enough having his heart speak the same nonsense in his head, and he doesn't need Jay doing it either.

"You still owe me from the bet," Jay says, suddenly smiling. "Think it's time I claimed that one."

Ben starts to get out his wallet, but Jay stops him, "Didn't mean that."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Go talk to him," he nods his head towards Callum's direction, Ben allowing himself a glance before he scolds his own longing for him. "Do it, because I bet you ain't booked a hotel yet, anyway."

"Are you suggesting I ask Callum to crash at his place?" 

"I'm suggesting you  _ talk,  _ Ben," he finishes his beer, grabbing his suitcase handle beside him. "Now go, before he leaves again. I've got a train to catch and I don't want you borderline miserable on the phone when you have to go home tomorrow."

"Charming," Ben laughs, but he's right. Tomorrow is dawning on him, and it'll only be a few hours before that dawn actually arrives. "I'll see you soon, yeah? Text me when you get there."

"I will," he shakes Ben's hand, and then they can't help it, hugging each other tight before letting go. "Take care of yourself. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Be boring?"

Jay taps his chest with his fist, "Shut up, you." He nods his head towards Callum again, "Now, go to talk to him, will you?"

Ben smiles, nodding. Jay gives him one last look before leaving out the pub doors, and Ben's about to look towards Callum, but when he looks back — Callum is  _ there. _

He's looking at Ben the same way he did on Friday last week. But this time, he doesn't run, just dipping his head, adjusting the guitar case on his shoulder before looking back up. 

Ben's speechless. The low light makes him look so warm.

"Hey," he says, and Ben blinks, remembering he has to speak too in order to make a conversation.

"Hi," replies Ben, smiling as Callum does. "You were good, tonight."

"Ah," Callum scratches the back of his head. "I didn't know you were here."

Ben feels like he's been punched in the gut. Does that mean he wouldn't have sang those songs if he knew Ben was there? Is that why he ran last Friday?

He doesn't feel like asking, but he does look to the floor as he asks what he's done countless times before.

"Can I walk you to your stop?" 

Callum just stares, but when he smiles, it's almost distant. They both know it's one last time.

"Yeah," Callum nods, not leaving Ben's eyes as the shorter man comes to stand next to him. "That'd be nice."

\- - -

"You're heading back home tomorrow, aren't you?" Callum asks, hands in his pockets as they walk.

Ben doesn't really want to answer. If he does, then it's true, and he'll have to say goodbye to him. 

"Yeah," he tries to smile and maybe joke about it, but the grey clouds above don't help, making the night seem even more isolating even if he is with someone else. "Gotta' find a hotel for tonight, then I'm heading home in the morning."

"Ah, I see," Callum stops, and Ben wants to ask why, but they've already reached his stop.

"The end of the road, then?" says Ben, looking solemn in his smile as he turns his head away. Every other time he'd just keep on walking, shouting his farewell.

But he's noticed it himself, how each time he gets closer to stopping, to having as many seconds as he can before the bus rolls up.

He can see it at the other end, on its way, and Ben knows he's out of time, especially when he feels rain start to fall.

What an awful last day. But at least he got to see him one more time before it's all over. Ben doesn't even have it in him to say goodbye, pressure against his chest that just makes him want to cry.

And as he turns around, Ben is content with his decision until he hears Callum take a deep breath.

"Ben," he says, and Ben feels his heart thunder backwards, begging him to go back. "Do you— do you want to crash at my place?"

He swears his heart skips, and it shouldn't, not like this. This means nothing. It's just friends offering friends a helping hand.

Ben turns on his heel, eyes to Callum's as the bus parks up beside them with a squeak. He needs to make his decision now, but Ben's already made it.

"I snore," he jokes, because there's no way he's agreeing first hand.

Callum smiles, knowing it's a yes, but it's a yes in Ben's way of saying it.

"I know you do," because Callum still remembers seeing him in the theatre after lecture hours, waiting for him, sleeping through the wait time.

He was up the previous night revising, so a moment of silence is enough for any man willing to fall asleep.

Ben dips his head and smiles freely at the memory. They agreed to walk each other to Callum's stop every other day after Ben gave him his number. They have no idea why they even became friends, but maybe it's because they both shared each other's secrets.

Callum has a voice of something golden, and Ben isn't the rough and tough guy half of his mates make him out to be. Yeah, they sit on opposite sides of the canteen with vastly different numbers, but they always spared a glance for each other.

Maybe they both know, or they can feel it — how their hearts thump like their own song every time they see each other. 

That's why Ben's mates never knew anything. It was always their secret, just theirs, their own little notes in the back of Callum's song book.

"You really don't mind?" asks Ben, but his feet are already following after Callum, and Callum is already buying a ticket for him.

"No," he turns back over his shoulder and smiles to see Ben behind him. The bus doors close as they walk to their seats, Callum removing the carry case from his shoulders to sit it between his legs. Ben sits down next to him with a sigh. "You've always wanted to go on this bus, ain't you?"

Ben laughs at him, "Sorry? Is that really the excuse you're gonna' use?"

Callum nods, scratching the side of his face and the gentle stubble when he realises they're touching along one side of their bodies. His skin feels alight, and he takes a moment to look at how their knees knock together. He can't move away because he's in the window seat, and the guitar between his legs isn't helping either.

Ben looks down to where he is, and he smiles. He knocks his knee against Callum's, and Callum huffs, looking out the window.

_ God —  _ when did Ben get so caught up in how much he likes Callum? It's usually never this way, months on end pining for someone. Callum's been doing the same, looking at Ben when he spots him somewhere in the building, writing songs about him, playing his guitar in the comfort of his own flat imagining himself back at the theatre with Ben watching him, admiration in the blue of his eyes.

He's never sang in front of Ben while looking at him, always to the floor, because his lyrics about Ben might become obvious if he's staring at the man that inspired every one.

It was only after their third meeting that he started to write about him. Just one song, the typical  _ I've got a crush I can't shake  _ type of song he's never played, only singing or whistling it to himself on the odd occasion.

Either way, they know they both like each other, but they both equally think they're just blindly hoping they're right.

The bus stops twenty minutes later, and Callum smiles as Ben looks at him.

"Oh," he says, standing up and heading towards the doors, Callum behind him.

When they step out, it's another five minute walk, and they talk about how their finals went, all smiles and relief of it being over. Ben asks about what Callum's plans are, and he finds out he's been accepted to a music school near Wales.

It's — _ miles away. _

Ben's heart drops when he says it, but Callum takes hold of his forearm, a comforting gesture.

"I'll come back and see you from time to time," he says, offering a comforting smile, and Ben lingers on his lips. They're friends, it's what friends do.

"You don't have to do that," Ben looks away now, taking a deep breath when they stop outside of an apartment complex, Callum letting go of his arm to adjust the strap of his carry case.

"I want to," and that may be the first admmition to anything more between them.

Ben stares at him, almost longing in the way he looks over his face, remembering it. This is a bad idea. He shouldn't have agreed to stay, because now he wants to stay entirely, always.

Callum offers another smile, heading up the stairs to let himself in, leaving the door open for Ben as he staggers a few steps behind. It's like his body wants to follow and doesn't at the same time. 

But it's an easy win for wanting to stay when they're in the elevator, hands brushing together in a way that makes Callum's lungs burn. He can say how much he wants Ben to love him in his songs, but actually saying it out loud is probably the most daunting thing he's ever thought of doing.

Once they're in his flat, Callum holds the door open for him again, smiling as they meet eyes on the way in.

"Make yourself at home," he says, locking the door after him since it's late. "Some juice in the fridge and snacks in there too if you get hungry."

Ben stops in the middle of the room, hands still in his pockets, adjusting his own bag.

He takes a moment to look around the small apartment, little trinkets of memories, clothes thrown in places, but despite that it's relatively clean for a third year student.

There's posters on the wall from gigs he's been to, a few swimming trophies from what looks like his younger years, a laptop hooked up to a keyboard sitting in the corner.

"You play this too?"

Callum shakes his head, "Learning, mostly."

Ben takes his bag off his shoulder, placing it down out of the way. It doesn't feel awkward, more like a pause in time where they can come to terms with something.

"Thanks," Ben says, continuing when he turns around to see Callum taking his jacket off. "For letting me crash."

"You did the same for me," and he did, Callum smiling his way as he remembers that one night Callum missed the last bus, helping Ben study while doing his own.

"I still feel bad about burning breakfast," Ben chuckles, putting one hand into his jean pocket and the other at the back of his head. "Thank god you're a man of many talents."

Callum clicks his tongue, "Enough of that. That ain't true."

"You wanna' bet? You're gonna' have to deal with me all night long otherwise," he shrugs, prompting Callum to look his way again.

"I already am," he says, and Ben rolls his eyes.

After that, Callum turns towards the kitchen. Ben doesn't really know what to do, but he goes back to the instrument, heading over, looking at his desk with curious eyes.

There's a book, some pens, rough notes and words on a sheet. Callum definitely writes his own songs, and it never really occurred to him until now, seeing clear evidence of it.

Callum walks back in with two mugs of hot chocolate, pausing when he sees Ben reaching for the book. Ben jumps at his voice.

"Sorry, only got hot chocolate here," Callum walks the rest of the distance, paying one short glance towards the song book to see it still closed.

"That's okay, bit too late for coffee," Ben whispers a thanks as he takes it, sipping it once before placing it down so he can take off his coat. "You — write your own songs?"

Callum holds the mug with both of his hands, and Ben drops his focus to them, how gently they hold the ceramic. And no, he's not jealous of a mug, or a guitar. That's just silly.

"Yeah, I guess," Callum is beyond nervous, Ben can hear it in his voice, looking towards the book Ben was just about to open. "All of them apart from covers."

Ben's sad, suddenly. The lyrics he's heard that aren't covers are sometimes heartbreaking, tugging at Ben's soul like nothing else has.

Callum appreciates the silence after such a question, but the way it lingers with Ben's expression is almost too much to bear.

"Who broke your heart?" 

Ben realises what sort of question it sounds like, but he has no idea of the thunder in Callum's head that says;  _ you are. _

But he smiles despite that, laughing like it's a silly question, but there's nothing in it. No weight to it.

"That's a bit dark, Ben," he says, but when he looks to Ben for real, he has this —  _ look  _ on his face that almost seems guilty, like he knows. "And they're not all about that."

"When you sing them," Ben's words cause so many butterflies in Callum's stomach. "It's like — I'm the one in that song, that I'm the one hoping for them to love me back."

"You like someone?" Callum says that way too fast, but it's too late to take it back, because Ben replies just as fast.

"No  _ no,"  _ and merciless pain bites his chest.  _ Stop lying.  _ "That's just how I feel when I hear you sing, or when I watch you play."

"Oh," Callum nods, the butterflies vanishing in cold puffs that make him feel sick. "I'm sorry it's sad. I don't mean to make you feel that way."

"It's good," and Callum tilts his head at that. "I don't — open up a lot. Hearing what I feel and hearing someone else say it doesn't make me feel…"

"Alone?"

Ben smiles, but it's sad, taking another sip of his drink before answering. "Yeah, that's it."

It's some sort of mutual ground they're standing on. Obvious hints, subtle glances, and Ben  _ really  _ needs to stop staring at his hands.

"Hey, uh—" Callum starts, pointing towards the bedroom. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

Ben would make a joke about this, but the way Callum's blushing makes him give mercy. 

"I'm not stealing your bed," Ben laughs, nudging him with his elbow. "This is your place, I'm crashing, not you."

"Please? You're travelling all day tomorrow. A bad back sucks on a train," Callum talks like he's doing so from experience, and Ben can't argue anymore when Callum asks again. "So, please?"

"Alright, fine," Ben holds his free hand up in mild surrender. "At least let me shower so I don't stink it up. I brought a towel with me."

Callum goes blank. Still remains that way seconds later when Ben gulps the rest of his drink.

"Yeah, course."

Ben nods, turning back to open his rucksack, picking out the clean towel he said he had and taking some clean clothes for the night.

Callum watches him leave out of the corner of his eye, having to put his drink down on the desk when Ben closes the door behind him.

His next inhale rattles his lungs, hand to his chest because  _ oh my god —  _ his crush is in his apartment, talking about his songs in the last day before they both need to part ways and Callum hasn't confessed about how much he likes him.

But it's too late. There's no going back now, and for some reason, he's partly relieved that he gets one more moment, one more night with Ben.

He hears the shower running a few minutes later, and Callum uses that as space to get himself changed into some night clothes. He's slept on the sofa multiple times, fell asleep writing songs on it when he's tossed and turned in bed and can't sleep.

Now, he fears the same will happen, wanting to write about being so close but so far apart.

It's ten minutes later that Ben steps outside the bathroom in fresh clothes, Callum wearing his night shorts and a baggy shirt that slips off one side of his shoulder.

Ben looks over at him for a moment, watching him stare hard at the floor before clearing his throat.

"Oh," Callum looks over again, smiling. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," Ben replies. "Thanks."

"Night, then."

"Night," Callum replies, nodding towards him before looking down to his phone.

He's not sure what else to say. Ben doesn't know either, so he decides to walk away, heading towards the bed that suddenly feels too daunting and huge to sleep in.

Ben knows Callum's a tall guy, but this bed will swamp him. However, he's not going to complain when it saves him money buying a hotel room for one night.

He gets in, trying not to think too hard about how this is almost too close for comfort, too close to something more as he places his head down on the pillow. 

It smells like Callum. His aftershave. 

Ben closes his eyes, ignoring it as he turns onto his back. From where the bed sits, he can just about see Callum, blocked by the wall to the bedroom, but Ben can see him shuffle onto his side, eyes open and staring towards his desk.

The rain from outside is picking up, barreling against the glass from the wind, thick with the uneasy balance both Ben and Callum feel. 

Ben wants to stay. Callum doesn't want him to go.

It's best if he just sleeps, and he'll hold onto that promise Callum gave him of coming back to see him. That's enough, but it'll also never  _ be  _ enough. 

He's scared of what falling in love means, and with Callum, he's never known his heart to tug so wildly every time Callum sings another word, or how it feels like Callum plucks the strings at the same time his heart beats. They're a song in itself, imperfect but perfectly balanced. 

Wolves aren't meant to sit and listen to a bird's song. They snatch them away and run, and Ben isn't running. He's listening.

And he will keep listening for as long as Callum plays, even more so his voice, low in the late hours of the night, a roughness only exhaustion and pain can give. 

Callum can't sleep, so he plays, starting a song as the guitar sits unplayed on his lap. He's singing to the floor again, gentle hums that turn into words, a song about wanting more, a song about being in the same room but miles apart.

It's for him. This song is for Ben.

But Callum doesn't sing when he's this close. He ran in the pub because he was practically an arm's length away, and now they're in his flat, no one else but them.

And Callum's singing quietly, just for Ben. The world can't hear him if it's raining.

Ben sits up, looking over to where he can see Callum, and he's not just dreaming it. He has before, dreamt of Callum, holding his hand or the words of his voice guiding him through shapes and mosaic colours. 

This is real, and Callum's words are real, the focused and finite way he plucks one single string— all  _ real. _

Ben walks out of the room, feet stopping at the edge, eyes falling to Callum's hand on the strings as he expertly does one note after the other, but it still has that natural squeak of the acoustic he's come to know from all these months.

Callum knows he's there, but he doesn't dare look, eyes closed to the ground as he confesses everything he feels through the first song he ever wrote about Ben. It's changed numerous times, following their journey from first meeting to the countless times Ben walked him to his stop.

Everything he feels pours out through song, through the words in his voice, and the need to be with Ben — to hold and love him moving through his thumb as he plucks the strings, his other hand holding each note.

Ben walks a little closer as Callum sings,  _ "One day I'll look up and you'll see me,"  _ and as he finishes, Ben stands there, just as Callum lifts his head to look at him.

His fingers freeze on the strings, words caught in his throat. Ben just smiles, nodding.

"You don't have to do that," he says, and Callum's shoulders drop a little.

"Do— do what?"

"Look at the floor when you sing," Ben looks around, as if to prove his next point further. "It's just you and me."

Callum swallows, arm hanging over his guitar. 

"That's what scares me," he says, a muffled smile on his lips before it drops. "I wanna' look up when you're around."

"Why?"

"I want you to see me," Callum almost croaks, not sure if he should've said something else. "To see that I— that I  _ like  _ you."

Ben's eyes frown, because  _ fuck—  _ has it really been that simple? They've liked each other all this time and said nothing?

Callum expects the worst, for Ben to laugh and turn away, but he stays where he is, looking down to his guitar and then back towards his eyes.

"I've always seen you," Ben replies, a softness to his voice Callum hasn't witnessed before. "Always listened, ever since the day I met you."

"Is that the only thing you see?" Callum gestures to the guitar, to his throat. "My voice? That I can play guitar?"

"No?" Ben tilts his head, because, "Even if it was at the start, I stayed for you. I stayed because I— I like you too. The voice and the guitar are part of you, it's just what you have. Anyone that seperates that doesn't deserve to think anything of you at all."

Callum lets his shoulders fall again, staring at Ben with a defeated expression.

"Someone did break your heart, didn't they?"

"It was— it was you," he admits, eyes casted down to the floor once more. "Second year, I saw you but you never saw me. You were this guy everybody loved and I wanted to talk to you. I've liked you ever since that point."

"Surely not."

"I did," Callum explains. "I wanted to talk to you because I saw how you looked when your friends turned away. You had all those friends and yet you still felt alone."

Ben would complain he didn't crash here to get analysed, but then the emotions of all those mentioned times tumble onto his shoulders like bricks.

"You were always alone in some way, like I was — but I had my music. I wanted to… wanted to share that with you."

His heart blooms, like the first flower bud uncurling in spring, bright and so full of hope for the coming months. That's how it feels, to have Callum look at him like he can  _ see  _ him, see  _ Ben  _ and no one else.

"How did you know I liked music?" He chuckles, and Callum huffs.

"First year, you dropped a walkman," and Ben's eyes go wide.

"That was you?" Ben tilts his head again, playful smile on his face.

"Yeah, that was when we first met. No one has something that old in perfect condition for nothing," Callum shrugs, pointing to his hair. "That's when I had that awful haircut, by the way."

"And the hat?" Now Ben remembers, the awkward  _ here, you dropped this  _ as he stuttered, holding up his carry case.

"Oh god, yeah the hat," he points to the other side of the room where it sits like a relic. "Grew out of it but can't throw it away."

Ben laughs as he sees it, "Wow, has it really been that long?"

"I only fell for you in second year," Callum meets his eyes again as Ben turns back around. "You was in the canteen, all your mates joking about something and you started singing."

Ben goes pale. Oh  _ god—  _ he remembers that, too. He didn't even know Callum existed at that point. 

"It was just a lucky bit," he shrugs, going to turn around, but Callum is on his feet, taking his hand and Ben freezes again.

He has his back turned to Callum as Ben lets their fingers tangle, cold skin against warm, tingles washing up their arms and sending sparks straight to the thunder of their hearts.

After months of pressure, lightning strikes down their spines, as if  _ finally,  _ they know. They both feel it.

"Sing with me?" he asks, and Ben slowly turns to the softness of Callum's face, the gentle smile on his lips, how his eyes shine when they equally look so tired.

They both need sleep, but neither of them want to.

"Callum," Ben sighs, looking down to their joint hands, squeezing because he's wanted to hold him for so long.

And it falls into that for minutes, Ben feeling the rough ends of his fingertips from countless years of playing guitar, the strength in his wrist, how his hand fits so perfectly in Ben's.

If Callum's hands were made to play guitar, they were also meant to fit in Ben's, another instrument in the form of a frantic, lonely heart.

Callum lets go after a while, picking the guitar up and holding it against his stomach, adjusting the hold a few times as he looks to the floor.

Ben realises what he's going to do.

"My book," he gestures to the desk with his head. "Lyrics are in there. It's the song I was just singing."

Ben nods slowly, turning to pick up the book he now knows holds songs of Callum's own making. Ben doesn't know what to do with it while he's holding it, as if anything he tries to do will break the moment.

"Page 34," he says, and Ben glances at him, then his hands on the guitar, before looking to the book and paying attention to the numbers at the bottom.

Ben reads the title,  _ the wolf and the bird,  _ and wonders what it all means. A wolf howls alone, a bird sings in pairs. The line between them is so blured, though, one so innocent and the other pedicted as violent, wild.

Callum starts swaying on his feet, thumb plucking the first note as the strings squeak a few times, moving up and down the neck of the guitar to play the early build up.

Ben doesn't know when he's meant to start, not that he wants to, and he won't, not even when Callum starts singing the words quietly.

It takes a while, but Ben suddenly realises Callum is singing to _ Ben,  _ not the floor, not his feet. He's singing directly to Ben, nerves shaking his fingers, messing up the notes a few times, but he laughs and Ben follows with a smile that makes his eyes shine. And it's only when they hit the chorus a second time does Ben check the lyrics and sing along, knowing the words and how it goes from Callum's first playthrough of it.

Their eyes don't leave each other the whole time, Ben only looking to check the lyrics, but as it comes towards the end of the song, notes growing few and far between, Ben reads the words in his head as Callum sings it to him.

_ "We're probably not meant for this, two sides of the river, me in the sky and you so low,"  _ and that's when Ben looks up, having already read the rest, but he wants to see Callum as he does it.  _ "But love will always find a way to grow." _

And Callum finishes the song with notes that never seem to end, missing one when Ben steps closer, because he's throwing the book to the couch, hands reaching up to Callum's face.

Ben stands on his toes to reach him over the guitar, pressing a kiss to his lips that lingers until Callum moves his lips against his, and it's like everything makes sense.

If Callum's words are soothing, then his lips are sweet, and his hands are warm, one still holding the guitar while one places itself at Ben's jaw.

And Ben doesn't let them stop, Callum equally gone, placing the guitar gently against the sofa without moving from Ben. Even when they break apart to breathe, it's only for a moment, Callum's hand surging through Ben's hair, eyes never leaving each other as Callum softly pulls him back in.

He's waited so long for this, to kiss Ben, for Ben to kiss  _ him —  _ and all those songs he wrote never spoke this far, just the pining, and yet Callum thinks there's no possible words to describe what this feels like.

They fit so well, hands tuned to every part, finding home in another person as Callum pulls him closer at the waist. Callum gives little kisses as they slowly come to a stop, leaning his head back, thumbs moving through the back of his hair.

Callum's about to say something, but Ben beats him to it.

"I was right," which isn't what Callum expects him to say after kissing like  _ that. _

"What?"

"Your hands," he laughs, taking them from the back of his head and holding them. "They're so warm."

Callum laughs now, too, because it sounds silly, "That's why you kept looking?"

Ben blinks, "No," he tries to hide his smile, but he fails, letting his head fall to Callum's chest. "But— I'm happy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Ben closes his eyes, hands still on Callum's neck as they sway, Callum's song still in his head. "I — thought I'd leave tomorrow without saying anything."

"I don't want you to go," Callum looks down as Ben looks up. Someone saying that to Ben that's not his own family feels so rare, so open. "But I don't know how to do this."

"This?"

"Us, I mean—" and then Callum realises he can't jump to conclusions like that. "Wait — that's if we are? An  _ us?" _

Ben has this cheeky grin, and the more he makes Callum wait, the more Callum's ears go red.

"Stop!" He laughs.

"Stop what?" Ben jokes, thumbs moving to his collarbone.

"Just— are we? Can we do this?"

Ben bites his lip, dropping so his feet are flat against the ground. Callum keeps him near, but it's enough space to let go if Ben  _ does  _ want to walk away.

But Ben never has, always following his voice, always walking with him and never wanting to leave. Ben doesn't know how to say it, but he can show it, hand gripped to the front of his shirt, stepping onto his toes again to softly kiss his lips, one, twice, then a third as he pulls Callum backwards, hand backwards so he doesn't walk into the wall.

"We always were," Ben says, a momentary break as he walks backwards still. "It's like you said, love will always find a way to grow."

Callum stops him for a second, realising that's his lyric, and it makes his chest feel like it's fluttering, heart in overdrive as he surges forward again, hands firm as they frame Ben's face, fingertips rough against his stubble.

\- - -

Callum swirls a finger through Ben's hair as he lays there, warm with him by his side. Ben breathes gently, listening to the thump of Callum's heart beneath skin and bone.

"Why do you sing in that pub?" asks Ben, looking up to him, one of his hands soothing on Callum's stomach.

"Keeps this place over my head. Plus, it's experience. I have to get over my nerves if I want to do this for a living."

"You sang in front of your crush, I don't think it can get worse than that," he says, planting a soft skin to wherever his lips can reach near his collar bone.

Callum chuckles, fingers going through his hair again.

"You don't know that," replies Callum, and Ben chuckles against him too before going quiet.

"I do," Ben looks up, locking eyes with Callum as the sheets pool at their waists. "I sang to you."

Callum's hands pause, as if he's forgotten Ben admitted to liking him too merely an hour ago, and now he's in bed with him.

"I was your crush?" Callum sounds so happy, as if what they just did isn't proof enough.

"Was? Technically still is, even if we're — official?"

Callum tips his head back, covering his eyes with his hands, and Ben mourns the loss of that comfort. But Ben starts laughing when Callum doesn't look back at Ben again.

"Hey, Callum," he tries to get his attention by gently poking him, but it doesn't work, not until Ben starts taking his wrists, moving to sit on his lap.  _ "Hey, _ look at me."

Ben brings their hands together against Callum's chest, and Callum finally looks his way. He doesn't need Ben to ask, because Callum can see it in his eyes.

"I didn't think I'd have this," he says, honesty woven into each word. "Someone. I thought I'd be writing heartbreak songs for the rest of my life."

"Maybe if we never got together you would've written a hit single about the one that got away," Ben lifts one of his hands to kiss his palm, thumb moving softly over his knuckles. 

Callum debates with that, but he sits up, one hand behind him keeping him balanced, the other resting against Ben's cheek, thumb moving under his eye.

"I think I like this life better," he says, smiling, and Ben turns to kiss his palm again, eyes closed as Callum brings him in with that hand to kiss him. He's so soft, so gentle with love, the same way he plays his guitar and sings every word like it means the world.

"You might regret that in a few years," Ben jokes, insecurity still alive and well.

Callum just huffs, shaking his head, "There's no regretting this, what I feel, what I wrote in my songs about you," and he looks over Ben's face, relieved. "The only regret I would've had is if you left tomorrow morning without knowing."

Ben nods, because he feels the same, knowing he wanted to at least say  _ something  _ before he left. Even if he was met with rejection, he could've moved on, even if it would've took months.

"How do we do this?" Ben asks, knowing he has to leave tomorrow.

"Stay," Callum whispers, and Ben's body fizzes with warmth so new he knows he's already agreeing before he can make his mind up and say it out loud. "We'll figure it all out. Together."

"If you'll let me," Ben dips his head so it places itself softly against the side of Callum's, breathing in as Callum leans forward that bit more so he can wrap his arms around Ben, consuming, holding —  _ home. _

"Always," Callum kisses his cheek, Ben leaning forward so they both gently fall back to the bed, intertwining.


End file.
